The deck log of a commissioned U.S. Navy ship is generally not the place to mess around. In that humble book, a ship’s officer of the deck (OOD) meticulously notes vital information on weather, sea state, status of the engineering plant, the ship’s course and speed, along with other mission-critical factors.
But in the earliest hours of New Year’s Day, during the mid-watch from midnight to 3 a.m. or 4 a.m., the OOD can let their respective poetic prowess shine through, and write their deck log entry in poem form.
The New Year’s deck log entry is a tradition that dates back nearly a century, to 1929, according to the Navy. Sometimes, the OOD will hand the deck log poem duties to another sailor who has a bit more writerly flair.
It arguably reached its height during the Vietnam War, when deck log poems became so popular that Navy Times held an annual contest to feature the best of the bunch, according to the National Archives. But as writing increasingly takes a back seat to the phone and other electronic mediums, this Naval tradition has been in decline, and fewer than 20 ships in the nearly 300-ship fleet penned a mid-watch verse as of 2017.
But it’s a cool tradition nonetheless, and we are glad to bring you a selection of deck log poems from Navy bridges over the years. Check out the U.S. Naval History and Heritage Command to read more New Year’s Naval poetry from throughout the years too.
All the best to you and yours. We’ll see you next year.
USS Gilmer (DD-233), 1942
The ship: This destroyer went right to work in the Pacific after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, conducting submarine patrols and escort duties. It went into a Washington state yard in late 1942 to become a fast transport ship, and was in the Pacific Northwest when Lt. j.g. L.C. Brogger penned his ship’s New Year’s deck log entry.
The poem:
We’re anchored in Port Townsend,
With the anchor at short stay.
Ready for any emergency,
In a minute to get underway.
Point Wilson bears three sixteen true
From where the anchor lies;
The bearing of the light-on-dock
Is two seven nought, likewise.
The chain is thirty fathoms long
The water, seven deep;
The Skipper’s in his nice soft bunk
Deep in a New Year’s sleep.
He hasn’t had one like it
For this is the thirtieth day,
We’ve hunted Nippon submarines
From their base at Crescent Bay.
We haven’t found a single one,
Despite what fliers say;
Their logs and roots and trees and stumps
Have kept us underway.
Young Blatz is on the sound gear,
And Bowles is on the phones,
Sheller’s on a machine gun
But his thoughts are on his home.
‘Tis the night before New Years
And all through the ship
Not a creature is stirring
Except Judkins – the drip.
He’s breaking in the galley
To rustle up some Joe,
‘Cause the wind is blowing briskly
And the temperature is low.
Morton’s in the engine room
Keeping his turbines hot.
The Boatswain’s Mate is Coxswain Rink
Sleeping – like as not.
I’ve tried to rhyme my log today
But the Navigator’s sure to say,
“Write it up in the regular way.”
USS Thresher (SSN-593), 1963
The submarine: The first of its class, Thresher’s story is a tragic one, as the boat sunk at sea in April 1963, mere months after this deck log poem was written. All 129 officers, sailors and civilian technicians on board died. It was also the world’s first nuclear-powered submarine to be lost at sea. To this day, Thresher serves as a grim reminder of how dangerous it is to serve in the Navy’s Silent Service. Still, Lt. J.S. Lyman brought the sailor sarcasm big time at the top of his poem.
“This entry is dedicated to the unknown, unrated and unnecessary yeoman at NavPers who so faithfully and capably reads, notes, files and forgets my continuing and constant efforts through the year,” Lyman wrote.
The poem:
Now read, good yeoman, and you shall see
How THRESHER met the best year yet and first of ‘63
The temperature was zero or maybe just below
And the winds whistled sharply, from stern to open bow.
The skies were clear, although to the waters west
Appeared a few broken clouds,
call it “Scattered” at best.
It hardly bears repeating – you must know as well as I
That THRESHER lies in Dry Dock just as high and dry
As on previous days weeks months
(Forgive the crossovers, please, yeo, just this once)
Not a soul is missing, we’ve mustered our whole flock
The ship still stands, with all hands, in #2 Dock
Or did you believe that we might leave
Our protected spot on New Years’ Eve?
Still receiving AC power, as reported before
With miscellaneous services brought from the shore.
Units of the Fleets, Atlantic and Reserve
Are still joined with us in our private preserve.
At dock or on block, moored with wire or manila hemp
Spring line or breast line, we’re all at PORTSMOUTH, New Hamp.
There has been no demotion, or significant promotion
In this misbegotten, all but forgotten corner of the ocean
And the most rank of us on AEOLUS is SOPA still you see.
(Lest you forget, the number yet, remains as ARC-3.)
Thus ends my missive for tonight, the very first this year
Through past performance indicates, not the very last I fear!
USS Farragut (DDG-99), 2024
The ship: Flash-forwarding to our last New Year, the Navy has continued a deck log poem contest, and this entry from Quartermaster 2nd Class (SW) Anthony Bentley took the top prize, scoring the sailor an engraved piece of USS Constitution, aka Old Ironsides, as well as a certificate and a commander’s coin. Hopefully Bentley got some rest too, those mid-watch shifts must be brutal. Rested or not, QM2 deftly balanced a light, breezy tone while ensuring the essentials were covered. Bravo Zulu!
The poem:
T’was the night before wait; what did I say?
Forgive me, I’ve mixed up the wrong holiday.
For you see, on the seas, it can get quite mundane.
This week alone, thrice, I’ve been called the wrong name!
And rank, and rate, and gender no less,
But whoosah, breath in, there’s no time to stress.
For its New Year’s Day, if you’re wondering when,
So with that, let me start over again:
Once upon in a time in a land far away
We’d returned to fourth fleet for one more underway.
“Catching drug smugglers” the name of the mission,
Disguised as small boats supposedly fishin’.
Like bloodhounds fresh on a new T.O.I.,
Flight quarters away and it’s time to fly.
LEDET attached always second to none,
Simply shining their guns ‘til it’s time for some fun.
I’d hate to be smugglers, cuz they’re going to jail.
Operating area: the Caribbean Sea, blue,
Steaming independently, just the 99 crew.
“We’ll see so many islands!” the Captain did say,
But all that we saw was Guantanamo Bay.
I must include plant status or they’ll throw a cow,
And use my rotting corpse as a temporary brow.
So 1A, 1+2 A/C’s running online
#1 reefer cooling rations just fine
2B GTM, 1+2 GTG,
EMCON Condition Delta, readiness condition III.
SWSP 1+2+5 ready,
And FP 2+5 Pumping firemain steady.
Look at that, worked it all in, oh aren’t I clever?
(Though I can’t tell a lie, it took me forever.)
With the countdown complete, I can lay to my rack;
[Redacted] OOD, keeps the ship right on track.
[Redacted], the Conn, eyes forward and keen,
Through the night, ensures no contact goes unseen.
Dreams of holiday routine, I’ll quickly shelve,
For I must be up early for the 09-12.
Happy New Year to all from our tropical tour,
We look forward to the Yards all 2024.
Happy New Year’s, everyone.
Contact the author: geoff@twz.com